


Washed Away With the Rain

by thecumberbinch



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Mentions of Suicide, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tony Angst, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Whump, Vent Piece, a bit personal, hey this isnt starker so please dont, mentions of almost suicide, tony is a bit not good, trigger warnings for multiple things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 02:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15087221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecumberbinch/pseuds/thecumberbinch
Summary: He sees everything, and he wishes so much to die, but he knows that the universe doesn’t pity him enough to give him peace.If it did, it would have let him crumble away with Peter.





	Washed Away With the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! As you may have noticed through the tags, this is a vent piece, and for that reason it contains some sensitive themes. If you haven't read the tags on this yet, I highly recommend that you do. However, I will add trigger warnings here as well. TW: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, MENTIONS OF ATTEMPTED SUICIDE, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF PANIC/ANXIETY ATTACKS, PTSD. DO NOT CONTINUE READING IF ANY OF THESE THEMES WILL TRIGGER AND/OR HARM YOU.

_“I don’t want to go please Mr. Stark I don’t want to go-”_

He wakes up in a cold sweat, pushing his hair out of his face and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He glances over at Pepper, sleeping soundly next to him. He carefully gets out of bed, staggering to the workshop and shutting the door behind him, sliding down and slumping against it; the distant sound of thunder echos through the busy Manhattan night, the gentle pattering of rain accompanying the sound of his heart pounding in his ears and the erratic breaths escaping his lips. His eyes dart around the room, hands shaking as he tries to push himself up off the floor. He looks from DUM-E to Butterfingers to his workbench, stumbling over an abandoned pile of tools and colliding with the cold concrete floor. He catches a glance at Peter’s old suit, lying in a heap beside his workbench.

 

The gentle rain crescendos into a deafening pour as another crack of thunder makes him flinch. He hears Peter’s voice in his head, tearful words as he feels himself crumbling, holding him tight against his chest as he disappears into nothingness on an alien planet thousands of miles from home because Tony Stark, genius, playboy, philanthropist, who attended MIT at 15 and graduated with two degrees at 19 and grew up in the shadow of his overbearing father who was brutally murdered when he was 17, the very man he promised to be better than, let a kid die crying in his arms.

 

And he breaks.

 

He breaks and he breaks and he _breaks_.

 

He sees _call failed_ flash before his eyes and the nothingness of space swallow him whole, he sees Cap standing over him, ramming the shield into his chest, he sees the grainy footage of his father being beaten to death, his mother strangled and given a bullet through the head moments later. He sees Pepper fall into the fire, and Rhodey fall out of the sky, he hears the lady from the elevator tell him that her son’s death was his fault, he sees pages of names from people who’s lives were cut short and the last thing they saw was his name painted on the side of a missile designed to kill.

 

He sees _everything_ , and he wishes so much to die, but he knows that the universe doesn’t pity him enough to give him peace.

 

If it did, it would have let him crumble away with Peter.

 

The floor blurs as hot tears cloud his vision, clamping a hand over his mouth to keep from waking Pepper with his quiet, shaky cries.

 

He wants to be washed away with the rain, feel it pull him into a void where he doesn’t have to think, doesn't have to feel, he can just stop _existing._

 

But the universe isn’t kind to him, and it never will be. He thinks, in a way, he deserves it.

 

It’s a mantra in his head, on the bad days.

He lies on his back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the rain and feeling the cold air dry the tears on his face.

 

 _It’s better this way_ , he thinks, _it’s better if I suffer alone._

 

 _I don’t deserve the help_.

 

He thinks about diving off the roof and closing his eyes before colliding with the street below, watching the neon lights of Manhattan flash by on his way to the grave.

 

He stood there for a while, once, before deciding against it.

 

 _I don’t wanna go_.

 

He thinks it’s easier if you don’t have a choice.

He’d let himself crumble to dust; it would be better than watching Peter apologize to him for dying.

 

He thinks it’s better; he didn’t deserve Peter anyway.

 

He pulls himself up and hunches over against the workbench, clutching Peter’s old suit in his hands; even breathing is a conscious effort. He listens to the last drops of rain hit the windows, hearing it flow through the gutters.

 

It seems peaceful, the rainstorm; he wishes he could bathe in it, become it; let his emotions and regrets get washed away through the gutters and into the sewers.

 

He wishes he could be a part of it: not feeling, not being, just existing.

 

He knows the universe won’t allow him the luxury of peace, so he spends his nights alone listening to the rain with his demons dancing in the shadows at the corners of his consciousness, listening to the anguished screams of those who lives he took with his ignorance, those who died for a dream that shattered into pieces.

 

And he lets himself get washed away with the rain.


End file.
